


A Sleep-deprived teenagers guess at Twilight

by m0rriganlefey



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0rriganlefey/pseuds/m0rriganlefey
Summary: Years ago I tried to rewrite Twilight in a sleep-deprived state.Today I finally post it online to let it die.
Kudos: 1





	A Sleep-deprived teenagers guess at Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> So years ago when I was about 15 I decided to rewrite Twilight, despite knowing nothing about it except that it had vampires, a pedo-wolf, a CGI baby, and Bella Swan. Of course, instead of reading it chapter-by-chapter and then working from that, I went sentence by sentence. I barely got halfway through chapter one. Anyway, now that I know the plot and I have left school I decided to let it rest online.
> 
> Be warned, it is not good. I was 15 when writing this, it has many in-jokes and random ideas that popped into my head with absolutely no proofreading, not to mention it essentially turns into a stream of consciousness at several points. I was also incredibly sleep-deprived and wrote the entire thing in one night.
> 
> And no, I will never continue it. I had a whole plot mapped out but the whole premise relied on me knowing fuck-all about the plot and characters.

Preface

It was in that moment I knew, I was in the shit. Honestly, I should have guessed over the past few months but I’m kind of a dumbass so really, I’m not surprised. Like seriously who discovers vampires and werewolves and doesn’t get the fuck out of dodge (shit spoilers). I would say that I haven’t given much thought to how I would die --- that would be lies though because I would just want to go out with a bang because fireworks man they are fucking amazing ---- that would be funny if I had any true emotions.

Eventually I remembered to describe the place I was in. I stared down a hunter in a long room, whatever the fuck a hunter is in this context. There isn’t much describing him here so I’m wasn’t giving any liberties. Dying in the place of someone you love felt sort of ---- noble. It also felt like a stupid way to die. I would have never been in this shit if I had never gone to Forks, places with stupid names tend to have an effect like this, my anime should have taught me better! God fucking damn it! The hunter sauntered over to me in a friendly way despite the fact that he was going to kill me and even though his dark eyes said otherwise. And now we end this very shitty, very poorly described flashback. Then two days after writing this I remember that it is not a flashback but rather the prelude to a flashback. This is why proofreading is important Karen.

Chapter 1: First Sight (of shoulders)

My mum drove me to the airport, I was wearing my favourite shirt, a sleeveless top which would easily get on the nerves of teachers worldwide. Shoulders are so arousing I know. The windows were rolled down allowing teachers worldwide to witness these blank babies, the only thing blanker was my personality. I was also carrying a parka because apparently, I’m a fucking nerd, also it was completely clear blue skies and 75 degrees Fahrenheit because fuck you I’m American (or am I ;3).

In north-western Washington State (wait is it a state I didn’t know that) there is a small little town called Forks, like Gravity Falls but less cool. It is hounded by constant attacks from grey clouds and rain, making it the American version of the UK. My mother escaped from this sleepy town with me when I was only a few months old (if the previous description of the cloud attacks had been literal we would be reading a better book right now). I would spend my summers in that rainy shithole until I was 14 where I went “Fuck you Dad we’re going to California!” and he was like “Fine” but more Texan because fuck you that’s why. You won’t hear anything else about my dad right now. Fuck you.

I was leaving a lovely, large, lively, blisteringly hot (wait how is that positive) Phoenix to soggy Forks. I have no idea why I did this. The narrative is not going to tell you why. Fuck you.

“Bella,” my mum said to me before I got on the plane (oh yeah, my name is Bella I forgot). “You don’t have to do this.”

My mum looked just like me but old and with shorter hair, yet she still retained childish eyes, it… was always kind of creepy. I think she liked going to beauty pageants or something but since I was leaving now, Phil (I will not say what he does yet but it’s probably my mum) had to deal with that shit now. Fuck you Phil.

“I want to go.” I lied emotionlessly, which is how I say everything. My face showed no emotion which made it a bit easier. I am still a bad liar somehow.

“Tell Charlie I said hi.”

“Ok.”

“I will see you soon.”

“Nah you probably won’t.”

“Well shit you’re right!” She hugged me tightly before letting me depart onto the plane.

The flight itself didn’t bother me, despite it being foUR HOURS LONG! Nevertheless, it was the 1 hour car trip with my dad that somehow worried the emotionless husk that is moi.

My dad, Charlie (what a twist!) had actually been pretty nice about the whole thing, he even registered me up for the local high school though I think that was more because he would be thrown in jail if he didn’t. But he was also getting me a car but that could also be laziness on is part to not pick me up. Hmmm, on closer inspection my dad could be an asshole.

But it’s always awkward with my dad since I apparently have major daddy issues and we are not very verbose, like at all. Couldn’t you tell by my thrilling conversation with my mum. Besides everyone under the fucking sun knew I hated Forks so my dad was, to say the least, a little confused as to why I was moving there permanently. Of course, neither will you readers. Fuck you.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. There is a rumour that the British Shamans put a curse on this area. But the British never had shamans so that is bullshit. I took it as an omen of fuck you. Goodbye sun, keep your shitty sunburn to yourself! Holy shit why did I even hate it at Forks it is even cold!

My dad was waiting for me outside of his police car, thankfully because he was the police chief not because he was on probation. That fucking car had gum on the fucking roof and piss on the seats. THAT is why I wanted my own car despite having as much money as an alcoholic goat.

“Good to see ya Bells!” he cheerfully said as Texan as ever.

Dad gave an awkward one-armed hug as I came off the plane and we walked towards the piss-mobile.

“You seem the same, how’s Renée?”

“Mum is fine, nice to see you too Dad.” I reply blankly and robotically as always.

I had only packed a few clothes from Arizona that were absolutely shit in Washington. My winter wardrobe was tiny and shit and it involved me and my mum being poor as fuck, thanks a lot government for all of those benefits you gave us! My clothes fit easily into the trunk of the police car.

“I found a really good car for you!” he announced when we were strapped in.

“What kind?” I asked. I felt as though his phrasing meant it as a backhanded insult.

“I mean it would be if it was an actual car, it’s a Chevy Truck!”

“Crap.”

“Hey, watch your fucking language.” He joked. I think?

Honestly, I would have been pissed if I could feel emotions. “Where did you get it?”

“Remember Billy Black down at La Push,” he said, “that Indian Reservation place?”

“No.” I replied more monotone that a black and white painting being viewed by a colour-blind person on steroids.

“He used to go fishing with us in the summer, I loved to fish with him.”

“Fuck fishing and fuck your weird gay crush on Billy.” I said robotically.

“STFU he’s in a wheelchair now”

Oh shit.

“I hit him with a shopping trolley which somehow attracted a wolf who tried to mate with him.” My dad chuckled in a DEFINITELY INAPPROPRIATE WAY.

Oh…… shit?

“Since he has no further use of his legs he was like ayy take me van on sale mate!” he paused, “ok he was very drunk but I think the offer still stands.”

“How old is it?” his expression changed, clearly this was a question he was hoping to avoid.

“Uhh, well Billy did a lot of work on it before the wolf-fucking sooo only a few years really…”

I was almost insulted by how stupid he must have thought I was but being emotionless makes that a little hard these days. “When did he buy did?”

“Uhhh, might have been new in the fifties, sixties?” he admitted sheepishly.

Caught ya you little bitch! I thought, “I won’t be able to fix it if it breaks though Dad.”

“Really Bella the thing works great. They don’t build them like that anymore.”

Yeah but there’s a reason for that Dad.

“How cheap is cheap?” I asked.

“Well honey I kinda already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift.” He smiled hopefully.

Wow for free, and to think I was going to pay for it with the funds I don’t have. “Thanks Dad, I appreciate it. But still you didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine, I just want you to be happy here.” He looked ahead at the road as he said this. Dad then swallowed nervously as a small smile formed on his face, I might have received this trait as well by inheritance except… fill in the blanks or else you’re a dumbass, I’m not your mother.

I looked ahead as I responded. “Thanks again anyway, that was really nice.” Well that was my attempt at recreating the emotions of the human animal. No need to piss on his dream of me being happy like what has been done to these seats. Fuck I forgot about the seats. Shit. I hate Forks (the town, the utensil is fucking amazing). But hey free car, truck… or useless piece of garbage. All of the above are serviceable descriptions.

“Well, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by my thanks as any fucking idiot could figure because I ALREADY TOLD YOU THIS!

It started to rain and became wet (fucking surprise there) and we said pretty much nothing to each other after that. Now we enter an epic description of the surrounding landscape, worthy of that of Jane Austen and Terry Pratchett so strap in your fucking seatbelts because we are going on a fucking adventure of a fucking lifetime!

The landscape was beautiful, I couldn’t deny it. The trees were strong and sturdy, deeply rooted into their ground. They stood tall like lords above their land. The moss clung to the gnarled trunks like peasants grovelling at their feet, desperately reaching for the canopy which peered down on the sea of ferns below. It seemed like a small little kingdom but felt so alien, so secluded. Yet it was so GREEN! And we all know that green is not a creative colour.

Enjoy that? Well there won’t be much of it so suck my ass.

We arrived at my Dads house, he still lives in the small, two-bedroom house he bought with my mother when they were married. Clearly that went well. There parked in front of the house was the piece of garbage that was my truck, holy shit it looked like a car factory blew up. It was a faded red, with clear marks from where a donkey probably rubbed its ass against it like the piece of crap it is. But somehow, I loved it, probably because the plot demanded it but let’s just say I have lower standards than Wattpad. Plus, it looked like a good murder truck.

“Wow Dad, I love it! Thanks!” My horrific day had gotten that less horrific since I didn’t have to walk to school in the rain (umbrellas are illegal here) or take a lift in my Dads police car. Besides driving to school in a mobile bin is FAR less embarrassing than letting everyone know that my Dad is the Chief of Police and I could easily get all their asses in jail if they fucked with me. Nah that would be clever.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs because I packed jack shit. Clearly this is how the human teenage girl works. They don’t have makeup or lots of clothes of all. I got the west-bedroom that had a pretty smashing view of the uninteresting front yard. The room was familiar, probably because I had been there when I was younger. The wooden floor, the blue waffle-blue walls, the ceiling, the piss curtains, these completely unique things were… just kinda shitty really. There was a thick layer of dust on the window sill. When I used to live here in the summer, my dad got me a bed and desk; on there was a clearly second-hand computer judging by the amount of My Little Pony stickers on there, stop looking at me like that Fluttershy! Next to it was a phone plugged into a socket in the wall because my mum is clingy. There was still a rocking chair in the corner from my days as a shitting-self baby.

The only bathroom was small and at the top of the stairs, I tried not to dwell on the fact that I would have to share it with my dad (because that’s the biggest problem to ever happen to anyone ever).

One of the great things about my dad is that he doesn’t hover, he just lets me do my shit in peace which would have been completely impossible for my mum. One parent was like a hungry mosquito, the other was also a mosquito but vegan. It was nice to be able to not have to force a smile, or to please. Now I could just stare dejectedly out of my window and cry myself to sleep as I wait for the coming morning. At least I would have if I wasn’t as similar in personality to a sack of rocks. Nah instead I just laid there. Motionless. Eyes unblinking. Almost undead. Almost.

Now if that foreshadowing hurt you, good. You deserve it. Now fuck off.

Wait no fuck off right back here we aren’t done yet!

Forks High School had a terrifying total of three-hundred and fifty-seven (now fifty-eight) students. The only thing being scarier was the incredibly creative name, thanks Obama. These people grew up together and knew each other and then I’m barging in, essentially playing All Star on a shitty stereo dressed as Shrek (yes you read that correctly, calm your tits).

I would be the new girl from the city, clearly a freak to behold. If only I looked like someone from Phoenix, it would work to my advantage. By physically, my hot body wouldn’t fit in anywhere. I should be tan, blonde, sporty as hell and have humongous tits- as one should after living in the valley of the sun.

I looked like Kristen Stewart. Wait you want MORE! Oh well fine then! Eat this

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, with brown eyes, and brown hair and tits smaller than peanuts (thanks puberty). I had always been slender but in the way someone on tumblr is slender rather than in an athlete fashion and most definitely not in an attractive way. I was shit at sports, but really who the fuck likes them… HA HA HA HA. But yeah five tennis rackets to the face are not fun.

When I had finished packing my clothes into an old pine chest of drawers, I took my bag of bathroom shit and went to clean myself up in, guess, the bathroom! I looked blankly into the mirror as I brushed my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but I already looked like shithive maggots. My skin looked almost translucent. It _could_ look pretty but this story demands more self-hate. MORE I SAY! So yeah it looked kinda vampiric and that scares people.

That was as subtle as a train wreck, on a boat.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I thought about how neat it would be if I didn’t have to look at this ugly thing. I then forced myself to admit that if I wasn’t able to find my niche in a school with three thousand people, how was I going to with only just over three-hundred?

I didn’t relate well to people my age, or people at all for that matter. Perhaps it could be my utter lack of personality but that would be ridiculous! Then again even my own mother was never in harmony with me and she was my closest… companion? Maybe there was someone wrong with my brain, something that really should get diagnosed but healthcare ain’t cheap on this continent.

I didn’t sleep well that night, when I was crying under my quilt but they were meaningless and empty. Also, the wind and rain was starting to piss me off. At midnight, I was able to finally doze off because the rain was finally able to shut the fuck up.

In the morning, all I could see was fog. Fucking brilliant. Now I felt like Satan was trapping me here with his fucking cigar smoke.

Breakfast with dad was quiet, mainly because we were eating. He wished me luck on my first day. I thanked him, knowing that his hope was lower than his standards. Good luck avoided me as if I had a restraining order. Dad left first, off to the police station that contained all of the people he’d probably adopt if they weren’t all grown men. Like I said, low standards. After he left, I sat at the wooden table on all of the three mismatched chairs (it takes skill ladies). I examined his small kitchen, with its dark panelled walls, obnoxiously yellow cabinets and lino flooring. My mum had painted those cabinets because my dad had an emo phase way too late in life. In the other room was the fireplace, adorned with an array of family photos. The first was of my mum and dad on their wedding night in Las Vegas, the city of love and stripping. The second was of me and my parents right after I was born, baby me looked ready to kill a bitch. The rest were a progression of me going through school with similarly dead faces. They disgusted me.

This man had clearly not gotten over my mum. Clingy little bastard.

I didn’t want to go to school early but I was like “fuck it” and went anyway. I donned my jacket – which felt suspiciously like a hazmat suit, however I know how that feels – and entered the foggy dystopia that is Forks.

It was still drizzling, and I already missed the feel of gravel beneath my shoes. Instead there was sloshing because the sky had decided to piss itself. I reached for the house key and locked up the house. I hurried towards my truck to get out of the swirling wet.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry and lacking piss stains. Unfortunately, it made up for this in the hula doll in the window, who was Madonna. Otherwise it was fairly clean, either Dad or Billy must have cleaned it up. Though it did still smell like tobacco, gas and liquorice. Even the antique radio worked, all it played was country music and K-pop so after a few minutes I hastily turned it off. Not today Jimin, not today. I roared up the engine like a majestic goat and drove off.

The school wasn’t hard to find as it was just up the road, however it wasn’t obvious, there was just a sign saying Welcome to Forks High School and no beefed-up security which is kind of necessary in other schools. It looked like the surrounding buildings, with maroon bricks and a typical aura of boring.

I parked in front of the first building to get directions rather than just circling around in the rain for a while. No one else was parked there but fuck it, I wanted my goddamn directions and I wanted them now… then? I stepped unwillingly out of my toasty piece of shit truck and walked through the front doors. It was much warmer than I expected in there. The office was rather small; it had a waiting area with padded folding chairs, an orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls like gum under a table, a big clock was ticking annoyingly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough fucking greenery outside. The room was cut in half with counter cluttered with wires and paper and rum and raisin fudge. Behind the counter was three desks, one being manned by a large red-haired woman wearing glasses and a purple shirt. I immediately felt overdressed in the presence of this lesser-Weasley.

The woman looked up, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Isabella Swan.” I informed her informatively, and saw the immediate alertness in her eyes. I was clearly expected, likely a topic of gossip. The daughter of the Chief’s flighty broad- I mean ex-wife, home at last. Yay.

“Of course.” She said. She dug through the unnaturally high pile of documents on her desk until she found the one she was looking for. “Here is your schedule and a map of the school,” she fished through her desk once more “oh and here’s a pack of fudge for you!” she beamed.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best routes to take that require less stampeding, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and likely hoped I would like it here. I opened my mouth to smile back and walked away. I then downed the fudge (once again ladies, skill).

When I went back to my garbage-mobile, other students had started to arrive. I drove around, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were also absolute crap, unlike where I used to live where every other fuckass had a shiny Mercedes or Porsche. The nicest car here was a freaking Volvo and that stood out like a sore thumb.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying it memorise it now rather than later so I don’t accidently take part in any romantic clichés. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath of liquorice air. You can do this. I then reconsidered and decided there was fuck-all hope in this situation. No one was going to bite me (yet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)…). I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back in my hood like the social recluse I am as I crossed to the pavement, crowded with, ugh, _teenagers_. Somehow my plain, black hazmat jacket attracted zero attention.

Once I got around the canteen, building three was easy to spot. This was probably due to the giant “3” painted on the east corner. Handy. I began to hyperventilate due to my previously unmentioned phobia of the number 3. It’s very scary. I followed two raincoats (they were attached to people don’t worry) inside through the door.

The classroom was small, damn it. The people in front of me stopped to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks (in the UK they/we just suffer). I spied their faces. They were two girls, one a porcelain-skinned blonde, the other also pale as fuck, with light brown hair. At least I wasn’t the only one here as pale as shit, then again it wouldn’t be surprising as there was more fog here than in a magician’s basement.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man who had a nameplate on his desk identifying him as Mr Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name – fucking amazing – and of course I got embarrassed because that is what a human animal does. Yes. But hey, at least he gave me a desk at the back of the room and _didn’t_ introduce me to the class. It may have had something to do with the suspiciously vodka-looking vodka bottle under his desk. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed by not giving a shit about what Mr Monopolowa had to say. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was all of the basic shit: Brontë (there’s three of them and they are all boring), Shakespeare (Macbeth and his Macdeath), Chauncer (who?), Faulkner (wtf?). I’d already read everything (WHAT IS YOUR PERONALITY). That was comforting… and boring as fuck. I wondered if my mum would send me my folders of old essays, or if she would for some reason think that was cheating. It is as cheating as reading past papers. I thought over these undoubtedly stupid arguments as McBaldy droned on.

When the bell rang, the dying-goose-choking-on-laughing-gas-and-cream sound, a gangly boy with unspecified skin problems (idk what they are, you need to be smart to be a doctor) and hair as black as Vladimir Putin’s soul leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He looked like a fucking nerd.

“Bella,” I corrected. Everyone suddenly became interested in my personal conversation.

“Where’s your next class?” he asked.

I had to check my bag as my memory is average. “Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six.”

Everyone found this soooo exciting. Ok we get you like Hamilton. Move along!

“Cool! I’m in building four, I could show you the way…” Neeeeeerd. “I’m Eric,” he added.

I moved my face. “Thanks.”

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had turned into Satan’ urinal. I could have sworn several people were walking behind us to eavesdrop, this school was full of stalkers I swear to god!

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked.

Was that a trick question? “Yep.”

“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?”

“The only place more parched is the Sahara.”

“Ok, that sounds fake but ok. What was it like?”

“Sunny,” I told him.

“You look as tan as albino person.”

“Hey, my mum is part albino.”

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. Sarcasm here is deader than Abraham Lincoln. A few more months and I’ll need tumblr to help me. That sentence must never be uttered ever.

We walked (not ran, despite the rain) back around the canteen to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, his ulterior motives as clear as crystal piss.

“Well, good luck,” he said as I touched the handle. “maybe we’ll have some other classes together.” He sounded hopeful.

I moved my mouth muscles vaguely (how does one do that?) and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry (wait that’s separate from maths in the US?) teacher, Mr Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught (I actually kinda like trigonometry 0u0), was the only one to make me stand in front of the class and introduce myself as if I was fucking 6 years old. I spoke robotically and freaked him out. Ha.

After two classes

**Author's Note:**

> And that is how it ends. Thank you for witnessing my madness.


End file.
